


Blue Stars in a Midnight Sky

by robotjellyfish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Shance Fluff Week, Shance Fluff Week 2018, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotjellyfish/pseuds/robotjellyfish
Summary: Sweet dreams that become reality, deafening silence chased away by laughter, and friends who are always there for them. In various realities they come together and they fall in love.A collection of stories to warm your shance loving heart for shance fluff week (2018).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Dreams
> 
> It's actually past midnight here and I'm half asleep and pretty sure this is full of mistakes but I wanted to post it now so I don't fall behind. Please do let me know if you spot anything horribly wrong.

The Pugian girl smiled, hiding a giggle behind her hand she bowed her head. “You should stop by again sometime, Lance.” Her words are sweet, and she looks up at him from beneath dark, fluttering lashes.  
  
“Oh, for someone as pretty as you girls, I most certainly will.” Lance shot her and her Unilu friend one of his trademark charming grins that had them squealing in delight. The Unilu grabbed her friend's arm with all four of her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet.  
  
“Can't wait.” The Puigian giggled again. Lifting her hand she curled her fingers in a coy wave before scurrying off, dragging her friend with her, both their faces flushed.  
  
“Can you believe it, a Paladin of Voltron. And he's so cute.”  
  
Lance watched them go, his grin falling and shoulders sagging. Flirting was great an all, but it was exhausting, and the effort of putting on his usual 'lover boy' persona was getting more and more exhausting.  
  
Flirting was good, flirting was safe, but lately, it seemed like that every time he so much as smiled at a pretty face the empty, gaping chasm in his chest got a little wider.  
  
The girls today had been sweet, hanging off his every word with flirty grins and easy laughter, but their smiles irritated him, and every time they giggled he felt a sharp jolt to his chest.  
  
He wanted more. Lance wanted it all, the big, epic romance, and the storybook happy ending, but there was a big difference between giving someone a smile and a compliment, and actually giving himself over completely to someone, and not hiding any part of himself from them.  
  
So he'd made his excuses, pretending that he had to get back to the Castle even though they had at least half a varga of free time left in the space mall, and they left.  
  
Shaking his head, Lance squared his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Now wasn't the time to worry about his love life or lack (fear) thereof.  
  
“Paladin of Voltron, a moment of your time, if you will” The voice was quiet, and low, barely above a whisper but it stopped him in his tracks, ringing in his ears as clearly as if they were standing right beside him.  
  
A figured, swathed from head to toe in several decorative shawls stood at a small stall Lace had just breezed passed. He hadn't even seen it. Had it been there a moment ago? The little stall is groaning under the weight of various brick-a-brack, what looks like glass wind chimes hand over it and all sorts of boxes, stones and jewels cover every surface. The figure standing behind it is almost swamped by everything on display. They're small, their head and shoulder barely rising above the counter, and from Lance can see of their face it's a pure white and wrinkle, their eyes are entirely black  
  
“Uh, sure.” Lance glanced to the side for a moment before approaching the stall, his attention turning to the figure who'd called out to him. Their mouth doesn't seem to move, but he can hear them clearly.  
  
The figure doesn't blink.  
  
A hand appeared from the folds in their shawls, it looks something like a cloven hoof, with only three fingers. They tug one of their shawls a little tighter across their chest. “I believe I have just the thing that you need.”  
  
Lance waited, hoping for some sort of explanation but the figure did not elaborate any further.  
  
“Ok. And what is that?” he prompted when the silence stretched on for too long and became uncomfortable.  
  
They smile, at least Lance thinks they smile, it's hard to tell in the shadow of the shawls if what Lance believes is their mouth is actually a mouth or a particularly deep wrinkle. While who this figure might be (he's not seen anyone like them before), they turn away from him and begin to rummage through the things behind them. Lance arched his neck and took a step closer, trying to see what they were doing. Before he could get any closer, they turned back and placed a glass vial on the counter. The vial is small and looks relatively inconspicuous, the liquid is pink.  
  
“The answer to that which you seek.”  
  
Even more confused Lance narrowed his eyes, glaring at the vial dubiously. “Is this supposed to help us win the war, or...?”  
  
Laughter, but still that mouth doesn't move. “No. This will grant you the answer to that which you wish to know the most. The deepest desire of your heart.”  
  
Tensing, he took a step back.  
  
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he snapped smartly before turning on his hell, but again the low voice brought him to a stop.  
  
“Don't you wish to know if there's truly someone out there for you?”  
  
“You're awful pushy. How do I know that's not poison? You're probably working for the Galra.” Lance whirled around and brandished an accusing finger.  
  
The cloven hand slipped out from between the folds of the shawls again and uncorks the vial with surprising dexterity. They tilt their head back and lift the dropper, letting a drop of the liquid land on their tongue. Swallowing they return the dropper to the bottle, and wait.  
  
Nothing happened. The figure stared at Lance with their unblinking eyes, smile smug. Lance stared right back, waiting.  
  
Several long moments later Lance had to admit that nothing was going to happen. Of course, that didn't mean that whatever was in the bottle wouldn't be poisonous to him.  
  
“Whatever, fine. Doesn't matter anyway I don't have any money.”  
  
“Oh, this requires no payment. It's a token, for all the good work you and your fellow Paladins have done.”  
  
  
There was no escape, and those eyes were unsettling. Lance had to take the vial if he wanted to get out of this uncomfortable situation. He would just take it, and not use it.  
  
“Right. Thank you, I guess. So how do I use it?”  
  
The mysterious figure smiled and handed the vial over.  


 

* * *

  
  
  
Lance sat on his bed, skin glowing and fresh after a good facial. He held the little vial pinched between two fingers, rolling it between them watching as the glass caught the light.  
  
Two drops on his pillow, and then he would dream of the person he was destined to be with, supposedly. Lance wasn't convinced that the pink liquid wasn't in some way poisonous.  
  
He shouldn't use it. At the very least he should give it to Coran for testing, to make sure it was safe.  
  
He shook the bottle, watching the liquid slosh against the glass walls.  
  
_“Don't you wish to know if there's truly someone out there for you?”_ Those words echoed in his head, the black, unblinking eye boring into him as if they could read his very soul. It wasn't a question of if he wanted to know 'who' he was destined to be with, but if he was destined to be with anyone at all. The dream might very well reveal what he feared more than anything.  
  
Lance scowled. Grabbing the bottle in his other hand, he opened it, held the dropper over his pillow and counted out two drops. One, two. He capped the bottle, got up and tucked it deep into the corner of his vanity drawer (Allura gave it to him after he complained about having to get ready in the shared bathroom with the others one too many times).  
  
Back on the bed Lance snapped the eye mask over his face, clamped the headphones over his ears, and flopped back, his head hitting the pillow with a flump.  
  
He would go to sleep, he would dream of no one, and he would know once and for all. Then he could stop worrying about it.  
  
Although the ache in his chest thrummed with anxiety, Lance fell asleep quickly, lulled to sleep by the sweet fragrance of flowers carried to him on a light breeze.  
  
\- - -  
  
A breeze blows through long grass in a whispering rush, and the fragrant smell that drew him into the dream grew stronger.  
  
Lance blinked his eyes open and looked up at a darkening sky framed by a cluster of dancing brilliant blue forget-me-nots. He blinked again, slowly, his sense sluggishly returning. He's lying on the ground in a field of tall grass and flowers. Judging by the colour of the sky it was evening, fading into dusk.  
  
Why was he here? Lance closed his eyes again and sucked in a deep, slow breath. It felt nice here, calm. He felt completely at ease, safe.  
  
_“Don't you wish to know if there's truly someone out there for you?”_

 

His eyes snapped open.

 

Of course, that vial. This was the dream. Well, at least the scenery was pretty. The grass is so tall it hides everything, and if he just continued to stare up at the sky and the flowers, then he would never have to confirm if he was alone here or not.  
  
A soft hum reached his ears, so quiet for a moment that it might have been a trick of the wind, but there was a deliberate melody to it, a lilt to the sound and the occasional mutter of words as the person remembers the lyrics to whatever they were humming.  
  
Lance sat up and turned to them.  
  
“Shiro?”  
  
The humming cut off abruptly, and the man sitting beside him turned to face him. There's no mistaking it, it's Shiro, the familiar chiselled features are unmistakable and the silver prosthetic arm glints in the dying light. What Lance doesn't recognise is the smile, it's soft and relaxed, a sincere smile that reaches all the way to Shiro's eyes. A smile Lance has never seen on Shiro's face in all the time they've been in space together, fighting as Voltron.  
  
Something tight squeezes Lance's chest, suffocating.  
  
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Shiro's smile grows, and Lance is positive this is all a mistake, that the shopkeeper lied to him, because there is no way Shiro is his-  
  
“No, you didn't wake me,” Lance squeaked because Shiro starts to lean closer, the tender smile (a smile directed towards Lance, a smile that looked like it was for him) was tinged with worry. Lance's heart stuttered in his chest, and he leans back just a little.  
  
“Good. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you.” Shiro sat back, the warm (loving?) smile returns, and there's something so fond to his tone it makes the tips of Lance’s ears burn red. His hand rests on the ground by his side, close to Lance’s, their fingers only

millimetres away from touching.   
  
Lance lifted his hand onto his lap and curled forward.  
  
“Oh. Sorry, was I out for long.” Lance isn't sure why he's apologising to this impossible dream, it is just a dream, but even a dream, it's still Shiro and he feels bad for making him wait.  
  
Was Shiro really waiting for him?   
  
“No, not long.”   
  
Lance keeps staring ahead, afraid to look at the side, at Shiro. He focuses on the side expanse of blue that fades into lush, green fields stretching out ahead of him. In the distance there are mountains.   
  
The air is crisp but fresh, and as he sucks in a deep breath, Lance realises this is a dream of Earth (it feels so real). While many of the planets they've been too had a breathable atmosphere none were quite the same as Earth, and before he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint exactly how they were different, but he knows now, he couldn't put it into words, but this was unmistakably Earth.   
  
The breeze rustled the grass, whispering again drawing Lance out of his spell. “It’s nice here.”   
  
“Mmm, I wanted to bring you here.”  
  
“What?” Lanced turned to Shiro, sure the other man said something but it had only been a whisper, and it was carried off by the breeze before he could catch it.   
  
“Nothing,” Shiro smiled that warm, real smile that made Lance forget he might have heard anything at all. The smile took Lance’s breath away.   
  
“Ok.”  
  
It's Earth, but it's not anywhere Lance knows. It doesn't look at all familiar, probably something the dream pieced together from fragments of his memories, but Lance decides to play along with this dream. This fantasy.   
  
“What were we doing here, again? Before I fell asleep?” He mumbled with a yawn, pretending he's still half asleep.   
  
“Enjoying the view.” Its spoken more as a suggestion, as if Shiro isn’t quite sure why they’re there either.   
  
Well, this is Lance’s dream, so it’s no wonder this Shiro, conjured up by the dream, a mere figment of his imagination, didn’t know.   
  
But it's nice.  
  
A movement from the corner of his eyes caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Shiro picking a flower, rolling the delicate stem between his fingers.   
  
Shiro considered the flower, watching the small, delicate blue petals spin, lost in thought. “You know, I always did love the colour blue,” he whispered, but Lance heard the words this time, and then Shiro turns to face him, fixing the other man with such a steady, searing gaze it made him freeze.   
  
The long grass rustles around them as Shiro leaned forward, reaching out to tuck the little flower behind Lance’s ear. His fingers ghost along the line of the other man’s jaw and Lance forgets to breathe. Shiro’s fingers are warm and callous, the touch so real.   
  
His lungs ache (he was still holding his breath, but did he really need to breathe in a dream?), and his heart races when Shiro’s hand curls around his cheek, pulling him forward.   
  
“You're eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen.” Shiro’s voice shook as if he was nervous, the words whispered against Lance’s lips, and then Shiro was kissing him.   
  
Shiro was kissing him.  
  
It was a dream. A wild dream showing him his deepest, wildest fantasies, but not something that could ever become reality. That merchant had been toying with him, and this was all just some big joke at his expense. Lance had no idea why they were doing it, but he may as well enjoy the moment. It might be the only one he ever had.   
  
Shiro pulled back before Lance could reciprocate, his lips leaving Lance’s with a small pop, and for a brief, horrible moment Lance thinks he lost his one and only chance. But Shiro is still so close, just enough space between them for him to meet Lance’s eyes with a question, searching them for an answer he finds as Lance smiles and curls his hand around the back of Shiro’s head, throwing caution to the wind to he pulls Shiro in for another kiss.   
  
They fall to the ground tangled together, the tall grass and vibrant flowers high above them, enveloping them, hiding them. Shiro braced himself on his hands and knees above Lance, so his weight isn't resting on the other man, but Lance arched against him and pulled him down as they continue to kiss, the press of lips getting harder and sloppier, so Shiro lets his body rest flush against the willing one beneath him.  
  
“What if someone sees?” Shiro teased, a laugh bubbling passed his lips when he pulled back to take a breath. He doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against Lance’s, and his smile now can only be described as giddy.   
  
“No one’s going to see us.” And they kiss again amongst the dancing flowers.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
When Lance woke his cheeks were damp. He lifted the face mask and tossed it to the floor, rubbing the back of his hand across his wet eyes. It had been such a beautiful dream, why was he crying?  
  
Because he wanted it so much.  
  
He wants to lie in bed all day and feel sorry for himself, the ache in his chest feels so heavy that he’s not sure he can get up anyway, but then he saw the time. “Quiznk!”  
  
He’s late for breakfast. The team decided a while ago that they will all eat breakfast together. Promptly, at the same time every day. Hunk, in particular, has gotten pretty strict about it. So Lance jumps out of bed and forgoes his morning routine, throwing on the blue robe over his pyjamas. He can freshen up later, after breakfast.   
  
Running down the corridor towards the dining hall, he almost crashed into Shiro in his hurry. He only just managed to come to a skidding stop, just in the nick of time.  
  
“Shiro. Hey, what are you doing here?” Lance is sure his voice cracked, but he acts as normal as he can, hiding behind a flustered smile. The dream was still so fresh, the warmth of Shiro’s lips lingering on his own.   
  
“Lance? I'm, uh, off to breakfast.” Shiro seemed flustered, his clothes rumpled and not quite sitting right as if he's gotten ready in a rush.  
  
“Looks like we’re both late then,” Lance laughed, running one hand through his hair, the other tugging at his robe, pulling it together at the front. His eyes dart around, not quite meeting Shiro’s. He can’t. Not after that dream.   
  
“Looks like it.” Shiro chuckled, deep and smooth. A sound that made Lance go weak at the knees.   
  
“Oh, you have something...” Shiro's fingers loom into his field of vision and reach behind his ear. When Shiro pulls his hand back, he held a single blue forget-me-not.  
  
They both stare at the flower, speechless.   
  
When Shiro woke in that field, he had been so sure it was a dream. A familiar scene from his childhood, his favourite place on Earth what else could it be? And it was such a welcome change from the usual flashes of memory from the gladiator ring or the dreams tinged with anxiety that don't grant him any rest, that he didn’t even question it when he found Lance lying beside him in the grass. He'd looked so beautiful, nestled between all those forget-me-nots.  
  
“That...wasn't a dream?” Shiro was the first to speak, letting out the words under his breath.  
  
But Lance heard them.  
  
“Dream? Wait, you had the same dream?”  
  
They looked at each other, and again Lance forgot how to breathe, the air catching in his throat.  
  
An alarm blared, startling them.  
  
'Paladins, to your lions now.'  
  
“We...we gotta go,” Lance stuttered, taking a step back ready to run but Shiro's free hand shot out and curled around his wrist, stopping him.   
  
“Can we...talk about this later?” Shiro squeezed a little tighter then loosened his grip, and for a moment he almost looked afraid. Afraid of rejection.  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
Shiro's hand fell away, his fingers brushing against Lance's hand and Lance curls his fingers, catching Shiro's for just a moment before they let go.   
  
They run to their lions, the shrill alarm drowning out the sound of their racing heartbeats.  
  
Shiro held on to the flower as if it’s a precious treasure. He took it with him into his lion, tucking it safely into a groove on his console where it stayed for the entire battle like a good luck charm.   
  
The flower will die soon, even if he puts it in water, but as they fly back to the Castle, battle won, Shiro looks at the little flower and hopes that what is blooming between him and Lance will keep growing.  
  
He's been waiting for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence can be deafening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Silence/Laughter 
> 
> I kinda mixed both prompts for this one, and it's a little shorter but I hope you guys enjoy this ;3;

Lance requires absolute silence and darkness to sleep, if it weren't for the headphones Pidge happened to have on her when they made their impromptu journey into space he would probably be a sleep deprived wreck.

He's always been a light sleeper. Even the smallest sound could wake him from the most pleasant dream, and the faintest background noise would keep him up for hours, so the headphones are a Godsend. With them, he could sleep through the low, barely audible hum of the Castle at night time. He could sleep through the restless shuffling of feet going passed his door when one the others (usually Shiro or Keith) couldn't sleep and would pace the corridors. He could sleep through the pitter-patter of the mice sneaking into his room to rummage through his stuff and dig out his secrets. He slept through it all.

Lance would only wake up when it was time. His body knew when he needed to wake so he didn't need an alarm and he always greeted the morning fresh and well rested.

There was only one instance when he might wake during the night.

Shiro hated silence. It left him alone with his thoughts, and they got too loud, too cruel making it impossible to sleep. Some nights he had to pace the halls for hours before the pounding of his footsteps would drown them out.

Other nights that wasn't enough.

For a while, he dealt with that on his own. Getting through the Garrison, and then surviving a year held prisoner Shiro was used to getting by on little sleep, so it wasn't that big of a deal. A restless night might raise his stress levels and make him ill-tempered, but he could manage, and he'd planned to carry on like that. There was no reason to burden anyone with his terrible sleeping pattern

But then Lance found out, and Lance offered him refuge.

The door slid open soundlessly, and the room beyond is dark. He can see the lump, slap bang in the middle of the bed, Lance lying flat on his back, fast asleep. Shiro smiled at the familiar sight, and already his tumultuous thoughts are a little quieter.

Of course, the door opening isn't enough to wake Lance, nor is the gentle shuffle of Shiro's footsteps as he carefully makes his way over to the bed, feeling his way through the dark. Reaching his goal Shiro lifts the covers and slips beneath them. With Lance taking up most of the space there was only a small sliver of space on the edge of the bed, but it's enough for Shiro to curl up on his side.

Lance gave a sudden snort and shuffled over to give Shiro more space. He's awake, the heavy dip of the mattress beside him is the only things that can wake him. He doesn't need to be able to see or hear anything to know it's Shiro. Ordinarily, the dip of the mattress might not have woken him, but he recognises Shiro's weight, and he's trained himself to wake up when Shiro crawls into bed beside him because Shiro needs him.

After some more shuffling and adjusting, they both find a familiar, comfortable position. They lie on their sides, Shiro has his back to Lance, and Lance has an arm wrapped around Shiro's waist, his face tucked against the back of Shiro's neck and his body pressed flush against the curve of Shiro's, spooning him.

“Couldn't sleep?” Lance whisper-shouted. He thinks he's being quiet, but he still has he headphones on. Shiro bit back a chuckle and lies a hand over Lance's giving it a squeeze, their silent signal to say that he's ok, that Lance can go back to sleep and they'll talk about it in the morning.

Lance yawned into the back of Shiro's neck and nuzzled against him. He's asleep again almost immediately, and soon the gentle sound of his snoring fills the room.

For someone who needs absolute silence to sleep, Lance is a noisy sleeper. He snores and mutters in his sleep, and will sometimes even have an entire conversation with himself.

His snoring isn't that loud, but it's loud enough to drown out even the darkest, most incessant thoughts. Shiro closed his eyes, letting the sound wash. Lance's hot breath tickles that back of his neck, sometimes catching Shiro's ear, and his arm twitches around the other man's waist.

Lance laughed suddenly, and snuggle closer. “That tickles,” he mumbled.

Shiro let a chuckle of his own slip out, and he laced his fingers with Lance's

Lance will talk and laugh in his sleep, and cuddle so close to him that Shiro sometimes wakes with Lance sprawled out on top of him, but it's perfect, and Shiro sleeps soundly for the rest of the night.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Lance forget their own anniversary. Luckily their friends are there to remind them what day it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Friends
> 
> this one is late because I wrote almost 4k and didn't have time to finish this yesterday. i will try to upload the prompt for day 4 later today as well.

When Allura announced over breakfast that there was a fault with the training room, so all drills were called off until further notice, Shiro thought nothing of it. Even when Hunk and Pidge don't immediately jump to offer to help fix the problem, so they have an excuse to tinker with the ancient Altean technology, he suspected nothing, thinking that they were simply relieved to have a small reprieve from the gruelling training.   
  
He didn't notice the twitch in the corner of Allura's jaw, or the tightness in her eyes because his gaze immediately went to Lance, who just gave a whoop of joy, throwing one arm around Hunk's shoulders and punching the air with his other hand at the news.   
  
Shiro laughed, and Lance lifted his head to face him, cheeks tinged red and expression apologetically sheepish, but Shiro doesn't chide him for celebrating the unexpected break. He's happy too.   
  
They shared a soft look, the flush in Lance's cheeks grew speaking of something secretive that was only for Shiro. Neither of them had to say a word, they were both thinking the same thing. They can't remember the last time they've had the day off to spend together.   
  
It was the perfect opportunity for them to spend some quality time together and-  
  
“Shiro, can I talk to you about something, after breakfast?” Keith interrupted before either of them can say anything.   
  
Shiro's smile fell, torn. Lance glared daggers at Keith.   
  
“Please,” there was an urgency to the plea, Keith was practically begging him. It must be important.   
  
Shiro glanced at Lance, he was still glaring at Keith, but his expression was more understanding, accepting. He gave Shiro a small nod.   
  
“Sure, Keith.” Whatever it was wouldn't take long, probably. He can spare Keith a few doboshes and then spend the rest of the day with Lance.   
  
“Hey Lance, think you can spare a varga to help me with some experiments?” Pidge called to Lance, distracting him from his disappointment.   
  
“What, why me?”   
  
“Hunk is busy working on some new recipes, and it's Matt's turn to be his taste tester. Shiro and Keith already have plans, Allura doesn't like getting oil on her clothes, and Coran interferes too much,” she rattled off.   
  
“Oh, so I'm just your last resort?”   
  
“Pretty much.”   
  
Lance scowled at her, irritated not only at Pidge and Keith but all of them. They all know he and Shiro are dating, and they know the two of them haven't been able to spend much time together lately, a fact Lance has been increasingly vocal about, and Shiro to had become somewhat sullen and mopey lately.   
  
But Lance knew they weren't doing it on purpose, it would be nice if their friends considered their love life, but they've all been tired and overworked lately, and this was everyone's time off.   
  
“Well luckily for you I am a gracious and thoughtful friend, so sure, I'll help you.” He needed something to occupy his time with while he waited for Shiro to be free.   
  
“Your generosity knows no bounds,” Pidge deadpanned. She got to her feet and stared at Lance expectantly.   
  
“I have a lot to do so I need to get started now.”   
  
“Ugh, fine, I'm coming I'm coming.” Lance dragged himself to his feet and followed her out the room.   
  
“I've finished, so do you want to go now?” Shiro asked. His bowl was only half empty, but he wasn't that hungry, and the sooner they start, the sooner they can get this over with, and the sooner he can go rescue Lance.   
  
“Sure. We can talk in my room,” Keith offered. Shiro nodded, and they left the room together.   
  
“Phase one complete,” Allura announced proudly, a grin breaking her serious expression.   
  
“Did I do alright? Do you think either of them noticed I was lying?” She fretted a moment later.   
  
“Don't worry Princess, you did great.” Matt placed a hand on her shoulder, leaving to linger there for a moment but he pulled it back quickly the moment Coran glared at him.   
  
“Yeah, don't worry, those two are so oblivious they didn't suspect a thing.” Hunk laughed.

 

* * *

  
  
  
“If that's everything I really should go,” Shiro tried to make his escape, but Keith stopped him again.   
  
“Wait, I uh, have one more question.”   
  
Shiro’s shoulders sagged, but it's Keith, he couldn't walk away from him, and he was glad that Keith was opening up to him, coming to him for advice on how best he can work together with the Blade and with team Voltron. But all of his questions so far had been inane and so inconsequential Shiro almost suspect he was doing it on purpose, trying to keep him away from Lance.   
  
But Keith was one of the people who helped get them together. He wouldn't do that.   
  
“Ok, shoot.”

 

* * *

  
  
  
“So what does this thing do, exactly?” Lance asked. He turned the object Pidge asked him to hold around his hands studying it from every angle, but he can't make sense of it.   
  
“I'm trying to replicate the healing mechanism on the cryo-pods but on a smaller scale, so we have something handheld we can take with us when we're out on the field, you know in case of emergencies, and if I can just-”   
  
“Ugh, forget I asked.” Lance groaned before Pidge could get too technical and confuse him. If he really paid attention, he could probably make sense of her theories, but he was too restless. He wanted to see Shiro.   
  
Lance grumbled under his breath, bouncing his legs impatiently.   
  
“If you don't stop fidgeting I'll electrocute you.” Pidge threatened, and Lance stilled.   
  
“Stupid Keith,” he growled under his breath. This was all Keith's fault.   


* * *

  
  
“I think you can figure the rest out on your own. I believe in you Keith,” Shiro said smartly. It was a dismissal, and he planned to leave the room now even if Keith tried to call him back.   
  
Keith looked pained, and it almost stopped Shiro but he was already at the door, and he would have walked out the room if Hunk hadn't been standing on the other side of the door when it swished open, his hand raised in a fist as if he'd been about to knock.   
  
“Oh Shiro, good. You're still with Keith. Coran managed to fix the training room, so Allura says training is back on.” Hunk delivered the news almost cheerfully as if he didn't mind the loss of a free afternoon.   
  
Shiro is too crushed to find it odd. The precious time he might have had with Lance was lost, and the moments he did have had all been spent on Keith.   
  
“Then we better get going,” he snapped authoritatively, and he pushed passed Hunk leading the way to the training room, his words leaving no room for doubt, the other two are expected to follow.   
  
“What the hell took you so long? I ran out of excuses to keep him here a barge ago,” Keith hissed.   
  
Hunk fell into step beside him, smiling ruefully. “Sorry man, Coran and Matt were having some artistic differences.”   
  
“And?”   
  
Shiro could hear them hissing at each other, it sounded like an argument, and normally he would turn around to cut it off before it could get too heated, but right then, he didn't want to. He was too bitter, and Keith and Hunk are old enough to sort out their own problems.   


* * *

  
  
  
“Thank Oriande,” Lance explained, and he all but jumped to his feet after Matt gives them the message that training is back on.   
  
“Lance Oriande is a place, I don't think you can use it in that context,” Pidge bit back smartly. She carefully put what she was working on away before rising to follow him.   
  
“Oriande is a kooky magic place, it's fine.”   
  
“Allura's pretty eager to get started, so we should probably get going,” Matt interrupted before their debate can blow up into something bigger.   
  
Lance rolled his eyes, but he was too eager to get away from Pidge's lab and all the fumes that were starting to make him feel lightheaded to care to take the argument any further.   
  
He left the room, Pidge and Matt following.  


* * *

  
  
Both groups met outside the training room. Shiro lead Keith and Hunk, while Lance had fallen behind, trailing after Pidge and Matt who were engaged in a fierce discussion over her latest experiment.   
  
Catching sight of Lance Shiro stopped, waiting for him. Keith and Hunk scurried passed Shiro into the training room, Pidge and Matt following after them. The door slid shut behind them, and finally, the two men had a moment alone.   
  
“Hey,” Shiro called to Lance as the other man dragged his feet, slowly moving towards him until he was right in front of him. Lance stopped and slouched forward, his head falling on Shiro's shoulder before letting out a loud, long groan.   
  
Shiro's arms were around him in an instant, strong and supportive drawing Lance towards him. “Everything ok?”   
  
“All those fumes in Pidge's lab are making me feel ill,” Lance groaned. It wasn't really what was wrong, and Shiro knew it, but he played along.   
  
“Do you really feel that ill? Do you think you might be sick?” He asked. He pressed a kiss to Lance's temple and rubbed soothing circles on his back.   
  
“I dunno, maybe.”   
  
“Well if you do barf, maybe you could ham it up a little? Then I can excuse you from training and escort you to the med bay.” Shiro quirked an eyebrow suggestively, and Lance gasped.   
  
“Are you suggesting I lie to get out of training?”   
  
They laughed, and Shiro stole a quick kiss from Lance's smiling lips while he had the chance.   
  
“We better get in there, before Allura comes to fetch us.” Reluctantly Shiro pulled Lance towards the door, his arm looped around the other's waist.   
  
“Happy anniversary!!”   
  
A cheer welcomed them. Shiro's arm tightened around Lance's waist momentarily before going slack.   
  
The training room looked completely different. The walls draped with heavy fabrics in shades of black, blue and purple, with fairy lights woven through them to create an effect that looked like the night sky. A bunch of something that looked like balloons floated above them, and soft mood music played through the speakers. In the middle of it all their friends stood, grinning warmly.   
  
“It's our anniversary?” Lance looked at Shiro, who could only shake his head slowly.   
  
“I forgot...”  
  
“No

no no, there's no way I would miss out anniversary. What's the date?” Lance demanded as Hunk and the others move toward the stunned men, surrounding them.   
  
“Dude, it's most definitely your anniversary,” and Hunk told him the date, which yes, is exactly one year since Lance and Shiro first got together. Lance's jaw dropped.   
  
“I figured it might have slipped your mind considering you haven't said a word about over the past few weeks, and even if you were planning a surprise for Shiro, I know you'd at least tell me about it.” Hunk chuckled, and he gave Lance's shoulder a playful shove.   
  
“And you weren't anywhere near nervous enough, considering the big date was looming,” Keith moved to Shiro's side and jabbed him with his elbow.   
  
“You guys did all this...for us?” Shiro pulled Lance closer and looked around the room again. To one side was a small table, a white cloth draped over it. There was a candle in the middle, and the table was set for two, with what looked like the castles best silverware.   
  
On the other side of the room was a neat pile of blankets and pillows facing a blank, white canvas hung up on the wall. It looked like the perfect place to curl up and cuddle, although Shiro wasn't sure what the blank white sheet hanging up on the wall was for.   
  
“I'm afraid it's not much, but we all worked together to make something special for the two of you,” Allura smiled, reaching for Lance's hands. Shiro only just noticed then that Lance was shaking.   
  
“Thanks, Allura.” Lance squeezed her hands before pulling her in for a hug, which started off a round of hugs form everyone that gave Lance a moment to hide his tears and get them under control.   
  
“Now, Coran and Hunk worked hard on your anniversary meal, so if you would take a seat at the table,” Matt prompted when the group hug was over.  
  
Lance caught Shiro's eyes, and they stare at each other for a moment, not quite able to believe everything their friends have done for them. They were both teary, and a bit overwhelmed, but it was a good feeling.   
  
“Would you do me the honour?” Shiro asked with a bow before offering his arm to Lance. Laughing and sniffling Lance latched on to Shiro's arm and they made their way over to the table, where Coran stood waiting.   
  
“Gentlemen, would you like to sample the wine?” He offered, showing them the label on a bottle that neither of them can read.   
  
“It is wine and not nunvill, right?” Lance asked warily. Shiro let go of his arm, moving to pull out a chair for Lance.   
  
Lance smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Shiro's cheek before sitting down. Shiro gently pushed the chair back to the table before taking his own seat. Hidden from view beneath the table, Lance hooked his foot around Shiro's leg.   
  
Coran waited for them both to sit before answering. “It is not nunvill,” he sniffed, “Matt informs me that this is the closest we have to your Earth red wine.”   
  
“Sounds good, Coran.” Shiro reached across the table, hooking his hand with Lance's and Coran poured them both a generous glassful of a glistening orange liquid. When the glasses were full, he took a step back.   
  
“A toast?” Shiro held up his glass.   
  
“To us,” Lance agreed, and without any prompting they leaned forward, hooked their arms together and drank. Across the other side of the room, Pidge pretended to gag.   
  
“Are you ready for your starters?” Hunk asked, standing beside Coran.   
  
“Sure.”   
  
Hunk gave a small nod of his head before turning away, Coran and Allura trailing after him.   
  
“Happy anniversary, love,” Shiro lifted Lance’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.   
  
Lance bowed his head, squeezing Shiro’s hand a little tighter. “Happy anniversary, and sorry I forgot.”  
  
“Hey, you aren’t the only one who forgot.” Shiro rubbed a thumb against the back of Lance’s hand and moved his leg, nudging Lance’s foot under the table.   
  
The corners of Lance’s mouth curled up into a smile although he didn’t lift his head.   
  
“Yeah, it’s been pretty crazy lately.”   
  
Voltron and the coalition is a full-time job that left little personal time. During the past weeks, they’d only been thinking when they might be able to steal some precious few moments for themselves and spend them together. They hadn’t been counting the days, in fact, the day they got together felt like only yesterday.   
  
“So it’s already been a year.” Lance mused, and there was something far off in his voice that made Shiro grip his hand tighter and hold his breath.   
  
“It’s been the best year of my life,” Lance smiled, wiggling his fingers playfully in Shiro’s grip and rubbing his foot up and down Shiro’s thigh. Shiro let out the breath he was holding, and Lance pushed his foot into the other man’s lap with a smirk. Luckily, the tablecloth dropped all the way to the floor, hiding them, as if their friends knew what would happen.   
  
“Lance,” Shiro hissed, his breath hitching.   
  
Lance attempted to look innocent, but his smile and the dark look in his eye gave him away. He didn't move his foot from Shiro’s lap and pressed it higher up his thigh instead.   
  
Allura and Coran returned with their starters. Coran, setting a beautifully decorated plate down in front on Lance, while Allura set an identical one in front of Shiro.   
  
“As they say on Earth, bon-ape-tit,” Coran said proudly. Lance snorted and quickly ducked his head.  
  
Shiro did an impressive job of keeping a straight face. “Thank you.”   
  
The food was unlike anything they've eaten. Hunk had outdone himself. Lance moaned, his foot jiggling in Shiro's lap.   
  
“This is amazing!”   
  
Shiro focused on eating his, and not choking, trying to ignore the way Lance's foot danced dangerously close to his crotch.   
  
They finished the starters pretty quickly, and after them came the main dish, served by Hunk and Keith.   
  
“I hope you didn't spit in this, mullet,” Lance shot at Keith as he placed his dish down in front of him.   
  
“Do you seriously think I'd do that?” Keith retorted with a roll of his eyes. Lance laughed, shooting Keith a grin which he returned. They still bicker and make jabs at each other, but there was no malice behind the words.   
  
“Enjoy!” Hunk chirped, and grabbing Keith's shoulders he steered him away from the table so the two men can enjoy their meal in peace.   
  
Desserts were delivered by Matt and Pidge, who both waggled their eyebrows at the pair as they set the dishes down.   
  
“There’s more after this, so don’t go having all your fun just yet.” Matt teased.   
  
Shiro blushed scarlet, Lance’s foot was pressed right against his crotch, and twitched playfully at Matt's words.   
  
“Oh, we won’t,” Lance promised innocently.   
  
Their desserts were identical, but they feed each other from their plates anyway. Shiro got a little something on his cheek, and Lance leaned over the table to lick it off. No one came to the table again until their plates were empty.   
  
“Gentlemen, we have an evening of entertainment lined up for you, but first would you like more wine?”   
  
They’re already a bit tipsy (Coran had been refilling their glasses between each course), and between them, they've drunk more than half the bottle, but they hold their glasses out for a refill and another toast.   
  
After they down the wine Keith approached the table and lead them over to the pile of pillows gathered in the other corner of the room. A large bowl of popcorn has been set out, along with several other snacks and drinks for them to choose from.   
  
“These are your seats,” Keith indicated the pillows with a sweep of his arm, and Lance snorted earning a quick glared which was ignored.   
  
“Thank you, Keith.” Shiro nodded before pulling Lance over to the pillows where they curled up together. Shiro settled comfortable in the middle of the plush pile, and Lance curled up next to him, pressing as close to the other man’s side as he could without actually crawling into his lap, as Shiro knew he would.   
  
He curled an arm around Lance’s waist and nuzzled the top of his head making Lance laugh and squirm against him.   
  
“Stop it. You’ll mess up my perfect hair!” Lance smacked Shiro’s chest but made no other effort to stop the snuggling.   
  
Keith, standing in front of them his back to the white screen gave a sharp cough, drawing their attention. His cheeks were tinged a slight pink, and his gaze was very deliberately fixed over the top of Shiro’s head.  
  
“Before you get too comfortable, and before we start the main feature-”   
  
“There’s a main feature?”   
  
“Yes, Lance. It’s some Altean film Allura recommended, apparently it was big ten-thousand years ago. Now don’t interrupt.” Keith turned a sharp glare to Lance before continuing.   
  
“As I was saying before we start the main feature the mice have a gift for you.”   
  
“Really?” Lance sat up straighter and leaned forward to grab the bowl of popcorn, pulling it into his lap.   
  
“Yes. Now if you will please put your hands together,” Keith introduced, stepping to the side just as the mice ran forward, weaving between his feet to take his place in front of the couple.   
  
Shiro and Lance clapped, and the mice took a bow.   
  
When the applause died down Platt stepped forward and began to squeak in a sombre voice.   
  
Shiro bowed his head to whisper in Lance’s ear. “What’s he saying?”   
  
“No idea,” Lance turned, tucking his head into the crook of Shiro’s neck. “But they look very serious about this so we should pay attention.”   
  
The mice put on a play which seemed to be some Altean folk tale about two lovers separated by their disapproving families and have to traverse the universe in order to find each other again. It’s a Romeo and Juliet-esque tale, but the couple do not die at the end.   
  
“That was beautiful,” Lance sniffed, clapping enthusiastically as the mice take their closing bow. Shiro had a feeling Lance understood more of the story than he did, but he applauded just as enthusiastically regardless, touched that the mice had put so much effort into something for them.   
  
After

taking their bows, all four of the mice ran forward and run up onto Lance’s shoulders, nuzzling his cheeks. Laughing, Lance fed them each a few kernels of popcorn, and then they move to Shiro’s shoulders, squeaking in his ear before they leave.   
  
Matt approached them next, standing in front of the white screen as Keith had.   
  
“Now we will soon be starting the main feature, but if you guys need a bathroom break or something now’s the time to say.”   
  
“Nope.” “We’re good.” Shiro and Lance chorus at the same time. They looked at each other, laughed and then kissed before turning their attention back to Matt.   
  
“Right. Well as soon as we start the film, we’ll all be leaving so you two can be as gross as you want. Enjoy.” Matt dodged the pillow Shiro threw at him and left with a cheery wave.   
  
The light dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the fairy lights to illuminate them, and a projection lit up the white screen.   
  
“You know they’re still watching us, right?” Lance said. He threw a kernel of popcorn up into the air and caught it with his mouth.   
  
“Oh yeah, but I think I know how to make them go away,” Shiro smirked. He moved quickly, pushing Lance down he pinned the other man beneath him on the pillows.  
  
Lance shrieked in surprise. “Mr Shirogane. I’m not that kind of guy!”  
  
Shiro leaned forward and kissed the crooked smile right off Lance’s lips. 

 

* * *

  
  
  
“Wow, ok, I do not need to see this.” Keith barked.   
  
“Same. I’m out.” Pidge chimed in, and the two of them were the first t make a break for the door, almost tripping over each other in their rush to get out. Hunk followed behind them, muttering under his breath, his face flushed.   
  
“Yes, perhaps we should leave them too it now,” Allura agreed. She hooked one hand around Coran's elbow, the other around Matt's, and smartly escorted both men out of the training rooms observation deck. 

 

* * *

  
  
  
They couldn’t hear the words, but they heard the murmur of voices, hurried footsteps and a door closing.   
  
“I think they’re gone,” Shiro breathed against Lance’s lips.   
  
Lance hummed softly, pursing his lips to brush a chaste kiss against Shiro’s before gently pressing a hand against the other man’s chest. “This is great and all, but I’m actually kinda curious about that movie. Can we continue this when it’s finished?”   
  
Shiro laughed and stole another quick kiss before he sat up, pulling Lance with him. “I’m kinda curious about it too,” he agreed.   
  
They adjusted themselves, Lance now sitting in Shiro’s lap, Shiro’s arms wrapped around his waist, his chin resting on Lance’s shoulder.   
  
The movie was strange, and they talk most of the way through it, complaining that some things just aren’t realistic or that a certain character's behaviour is just plain dumb, but as soon as the credits roll Shiro wasted no time in pulling Lance into a deep, tender kiss, which Lance happily leaned into.   



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance doesn't think its fair Shiro birthday only exists once every four years, but he has an idea on how to make it all better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Youth
> 
> This one is a sort of sequel this (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364148/chapters/30602772) drabble, although there's no need to read it to understand this fic. Lance and Shiro are five years old in this.

“Shiro, for you,” says Lance proudly, holding out a small, blue envelope with small, pudgy hands. Shiro’s name is written in messy, loopy letters (Lance’s own handwriting), and there's a glittery shark sticker stuck at an odd angle in one corner.  
  
Shiro took the envelope with a small thank you and held onto it tight.  
  
Lance stares at him for a moment, expectantly, but Shiro just keeps a hold of the envelope, the paper creasing under his grip.  
  
“Open it!” Lance exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
  
“Oh. Ok.”  
  
Carefully Shiro tears open the envelope, making sure that he doesn't accidentally damage the sticker or his name written so carefully on the front. It's the first thing he's received from his friend, and it feels special, he wants to keep it as tidy as possible.  
  
Inside the envelope is a piece of paper that Shiro takes out and clumsily opens with one hand.  
  
“You are invited to my birthday party.” Shiro reads each word slowly, deliberately sounding out every syllable. His pronunciation is off, but he knows what it means.  
  
“It's your birthday?”  
  
“Yup. July twenty-eight,” Lance says with his hands on his hips, his head held high because he’s memorised his date of birth and will immediately give it out if prompted. But giving this information to Shiro prompts a very important question.  
  
“Shiro, when is your birthday?”  
  
Shiro bows his head and shuffles his feet.  
  
“My birthday is weird…” he mumbles and then proceeds to try and explain to Lance how his birthday is on a day that only exists once every four years.  
  
Shiro is used to it. His parents explained it to him clearly, and it's kinda cool how they will let him pick if he'd rather have his birthday on the 28th of February or the first of March. He's only had his birthday on the actual day once so far, and really it wasn't any different, so it's not that weird. But most kids their age don't really understand the concept of a leap year, it's not something they need to know or particularly care about.  
  
Lance’s eyes are watering.  
  
“So ….you don't have a birthday every year.”  
  
Shiro drops the invitation and carefully opened envelope because even though they are precious gifts from Lance, the fact that Lance is crying is even more important. He rubs at Lance’s cheeks with clumsy hands, trying to wipe away the tears the way his mother does. Lance shuffles and curls into him.  
  
“I still get s birthday party and everything. It's just not the right day sometimes.”  
  
“But it's not your birthday,” Lance says emphatically. He can't quite put his frustration into words, but it's not right. It's not fair.  
  
Shiro having to move his birthday around is just so sad, and the twenty-eighth of February and the first of March are not birthdays. Lance doesn't know anyone who has a birthday on those days, at least think he does, so they are just like any other day. They are not special, and Shiro deserves to have a day that is special.  
  
“Shiro, did your birthday happen this year?” Lance asks suddenly, an idea forming. The twenty-eighth of February isn't a special day, but the twenty-eighth of July is.  
  
“I had a party.” Shiro answers because he doesn't want to upset Lance, but his hesitant answer tells Lance all he needs to know.  
  
“Then when your birthday doesn't exist you can share mine!” Lance says fiercely, grabbing Shiro's hands tightly.  
  
“You can share my party too. I'll tell mama.”  
  
And no matter what Shiro says after that, Lance’s mind is made up.  
  
Lance talks to his mother. She knows how stubborn her son is, and the glint in his eye tells her there is no talking him around. She speaks to Shiro’s mother, and together the two women plan the unexpected addition to the party. Neither woman minds, happy their sons are close and such good friends.  
  
There are two cakes at the party, one for Lance, and one for Shiro. Both have candles. The addition of another birthday boy confuses some of the parents and gives them a laugh when the story is explained to them. The children take it in their stride and wish both boys a happy birthday just as cheerfully, and sing just as loudly for both.  
  
The pile of presents are mostly for Lance, but his mother has snuck a few in there for Shiro too, so he doesn't feel left out.  
  
They open their presents together, and Shiro doesn't care that his pile of presents is smaller. For one thing, Lance shares all if his gifts with him, but even if he didn't get a single present Shiro thinks he already has the greatest present he could ask for.  
  
Lance, his best friend.  
  
“Mama, can Shiro sleepover?” Lance asks when the party is finished, and everyone else has gone home. Lance is holding Shiro’s hand, and his grip suggests he won't let go.  
  
“I think that will be ok. If his mother allows it,” the woman smiles and then shares a look with the other woman. They thought this might happen, so Shiro's mother brought his pyjamas with them, just in case.  
  
Both boys are tuckered out after the party, and as soon as Shiro is given permission to stay, they go to bed without complaint. Tucked up in Lance’s rocket ship bed, they fall asleep still holding hands.  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wonders why Lance refuses to hold his right hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Cold

Lance doesn’t hold his right hand any more. It’s his prosthesis, the part of him that was stripped away by the Galra and turned into something whose sole purpose was to kill, destroy. It’s a part of him that doesn’t deserve to caress his lovers smooth, blemish-free skin, or hold him during their nights together, let alone touch his hand, so Shiro doesn’t fault Lance for his aversion to his hand, but still…  
  
It hurts.   
  
Back during those precious few minutes of his return to Earth, Lance was the first person who didn’t flinch at the sight of his arm. He was the first person who reached out and shook his offered hand and didn’t cower at the sight of him as the other prisoners, whom he’d spent the past year of his life with, had. They feared him because they knew what he was capable of, they’d witnessed his exploits in the ring as the ‘Champion’, so favoured by the Galra he was given the gift of an unbeatable weapon.   
  
Lance hadn’t known any of that then, so he shook Shiro’s hand without any hesitation, but then he was dragged back into space, pulling four innocent bystanders along with him, and Lance saw everything. He saw what the arm was capable of, what Shiro was capable of.   
  
And yet Lance loves him. At least he says he does, and he hasn’t left him yet even if he does refuse to touch his right hand, so really Shiro should count his blessings. Sure, when they first started dating Lance would always hold his hand, and didn’t seem to mind which hand he grabbed at first. But every time he held his prosthesis, Lance would shudder, and he would pull his hand away sooner than he would have had he been holding Shiro's left hand. Now, even if Shiro offers Lance his right hand, Lance will distract him, dance around and grab his left in a way that looks completely normal and unintentional.   
  
But Shiro knows.   
  
He looks at his black fingers melding into a silver palm. Apart from the unnatural colours, when it’s not activated and glowing purple, it looks pretty unremarkable. There’s no hint to what it can truly do, and it’s not as if it feels that different. The metal palm may be hard, but his fingers are soft and dexterous, and he’s always been careful to adjust his grip with his prosthesis, so he doesn't squeeze too hard (the hand has too much power. He doesn't think he's ever done something like accidentally hurt Lance.   
  
Has he?   
  
Shiro wiggles his fingers, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Lance flop down on the sofa next to him. On his left. There’s enough room either side of him, but Lance, of course, chooses to sit on his left.   
  
“Penny for your thoughts?”   
  
Shiro doesn’t answer and just wiggles his fingers again. He shouldn’t let it get to him, he should be happy that Lance loves him despite the arm, even if he refuses to touch it, but-  
  
Lance’s reaches for his hand, his left, and he laces their fingers together drawing Shiro’s hand towards him. “Shiro, you can tell me.”   
  
Lance knows that’s something is wrong, and he’s worried. He cares. It shows in everything he says and does so how can Shiro possible complain about one little thing and risk making him feel bad?  
  
“It’s nothing.”   
  
Lance frowns. He isn’t buying it.   
  
“Shiro.” He tugs Shiro’s hand and leans closer to him  
  
Shiro tries to lean away. He almost wants to pull his hand free from Lance’s grip but he can’t. That would be too suspicious.   
  
“Babe.”   
  
Shiro feels trapped. There’s no escape. “Fine. Why won’t you hold my hand?”   
  
Lance blinks at him slowly. “But I am holding your hand.”  
  
“Not that hand, this hand,” Shiro brandishes his prosthesis towards Lance. Lance leans back a little, staring, his eyes wide. It takes him a moment to recover, and all he can do is focus on Shiro’s prosthetic hand, eyes wavering.   
  
“Shiro, why didn’t you tell me this was bothering you?” Lance looks pained, guilty, and it’s precisely the thing Shiro wanted to avoid.   
  
“I just...forget it, it’s stupid.” Shiro drops his hand back to his side, tucking the prosthesis against his thigh, away from Lance.   
  
“It’s not stupid.” Lance lets go of Shiro’s left hand and reaches across him, snatching Shiro’s right hand before he can properly tuck it away. He tries, but Lance can’t quite suppress the shudder that goes through him.   
  
“Do you think I’ve been avoiding touching your hand because it’s a prosthetic or something?” He asks gently, his fingers lacing with Shiro black digits, his palm pressing against the silver plate of Shiro’s.   
  
“I don’t know,” Shiro answers in a small voice. He can’t look at Lance because that is exactly what he’s been thinking, and he doesn’t want to admit it. Lance may act the fool, but he’s far more perceptive than people give him credit for. Too much so sometimes.   
  
“Shiro, it has nothing to do with that. It’s just your hand is really cold.”   
  
“Cold?” Shiro lifts his head. Of all the reasons he’d considered, that thought had never crossed his mind.   
  
“Yeah, and you know how much I hate the cold. As soon as the temperature drops even one degree I need to put like five more layers on. If I hold your right hand for too long, my fingers go numb.”   
  
It’s true. Shiro remembers the ice plant they visited and how Lance shivered even when the planet's inhabitants gave him two thick fur capes to wear.   
  
“I never noticed.”   
  
“Of course you didn’t. You’d be ok walking around in the snow in shorts and a t-shirt,” Lance rolls his eyes.   
  
“What about when we make love?”  
  
Lance flushes a bright scarlet and looks away. “Well, that’s different. Your cold hand against my hot skin feels really good then,” he squirms, and even though Shiro didn’t think it was possible, he goes even redder.   
  
Shiro lets out a breath in a huff of laughter. “I’m such an idiot. Sorry.”   
  
“Hey, why are you apologising?”   
  
“For thinking that you would avoid holding my hand because of what it is.”   
  
“Hey.” Lance squeezes his hand and leans forward, bumping his head against Shiro’s. “I’m the one who never said anything, and I never said anything because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but I didn’t notice it was bothering you, so I’m the one who needs to apologise.”   
  
“You don’t- wait what surprise?”   
  
Lance lets out a long sigh and groans, tilting his head back. “Well, I guess it’s almost ready, so I may as well show you now.”   
  
Lance jumps to his feet, and he’s still holding Shiro’s hand. His right. He smiles, tugs on Shiro's hand, and Shiro rises from the sofa to follow him.   
  
“You know, you can let go. If it’s too cold.”   
  
“Nope. Even if my hand freezes around yours and I end up holding your hand forever, I’m not letting go!”   
  
Shiro laughs, and Lance leads him through the winding hallways to their room. He doesn’t let go of Shiro’s hand once.   
  
“Ok, close your eyes.” Lance orders when they’re in the room and Shiro does as he’s told. He feels a brush of lips and hot breath against the back of his hand (his prosthesis is surprisingly sensitive, he can feel everything) before Lance lets go. He hears a shuffle of footsteps, then rummaging. It sounds like Lance is digging something out from under the bed. There’s a bump, a muttered curse, and Shiro dutifully keeps his eyes closed tight.   
  
“You can open them now.”   
  
Lance is holding a box, his gaze cast down to the side. He looks nervous and a little embarrassed. Shiro looks into the box and studies its contents. Gloves, several of them. Many are black, made of different materials, some wool, some thick heavy fabric, others thinner and more decorative. There are several with different patterns, one pair that looks purple, another in varying shades of grey, and various others.   
  
“I figured if you wore gloves, at least on your right hand, then I wouldn’t be able to feel the cold and I can hold either hand. I didn’t want to just give you one glove just in case you didn’t like it or something, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to wear it, so I’ve been working on making a selection for you, so you can just not wear the ones you don’t like, or you can just not wear any of them at all I mean-”   
  
Lance is rambling, and he’ll go on for ages if Shiro doesn’t do something. He reaches into the box and pulls out a glove. It’s made of soft blue wool with the words ‘Lance’s No. 1 Fan’ woven in with a darker blue. “I like this one.”   
  
The box drops to the floor, along with Lance’s jaw. “You weren’t supposed to see that one!” He yelps and he tries to snatch the glove away, but Shiro holds it out of his reach.   
  
“Why not? Is there someone else who claims to be your number one fan? Because if there is I may have to have words.”   
  
“No, of course not. Please give it back.”   
  
Shiro puts the glove on his right hand instead. The words stretch over the back of his hand standing out proudly.  
  
Lance’s arms drop to his sides, and he huffs (pouts). “You’re embarrassing,” he grumbles.   
  
Shiro laughs and cups Lance’s cheek with his gloved hand. “So are you,” he grins before kissing Lance.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos so far, and anyone who's said nice things about these fic TToTT ilu I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I just noticed that fluff week has 8 prompts so now this has been update to 8 chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were two men in the past like them, so like them they are practically the same person. Two men who were in love just like them, but Shiro prays that their story wont end like those figures of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - War 
> 
> A little bit angsty at the beginning but hopefully the soft fluff at the end makes up for it. I felt that their past incarnations should have different names, but I suck at coming up with names so I decided to work this fic without mentioning names during the first half. I hope that doesn't make things confusing.

During a time of peace, their love would have thrived. They first met during such a time, when the great kingdoms of Altean and Daibazal prospered and worked together. The union of Zarkon and the great alchemist Honerva almost guaranteed their happiness, after all, if those two could do it and be warmly accepted by both Kingdoms, then why not they, who were nought but simple soldiers in their respective military.   
  
Indeed their first meeting was during a celebration of Zarkon and Honerva’s marriage. Both held a modest rank within their armies, so they were invited to attend the same exclusive party. Dark grey eyes set in a sea of yellow met sharp, fathomless blue from across the room. They came together, they talked, and they danced, and they were captivated by one another.   
  
Had peace continued they might have been able to enjoy their own marriage, held their own celebrations of their life and they may have grown old together.   
  
But war came.   
  
The brunette Altean shot down another Galra soldier. He had no time for mercy or pity, not on this battlefield. The screams of his dying people reach him, but they are doomed, and there is nothing he can do to save them. He had an important duty, and he cannot leave his post.   
  
Besides, he knew he would die with them soon enough.   
  
Another Galra soldier loomed out of the battle fog towards him, and the Altean raised his gun, his finger curled around the trigger, and as shadowy outline steadily grew clearer, for the first time, he hesitated to shoot.   
  
“You’re alive!” Almost choking on his relief the Galra stumbled forward, sprinting the remaining distance between them he pulled the Altean into a fierce embrace.   
  
The Altean sucked in a shuddering breath, and he lowered his gun, returning the embrace throwing one arm around the other man's broad shoulders, holding onto him desperately as if it’s the last time they’ll see each other. It probably will be.   
  
The Galra pressed his nose into soft brown tress, breathing in a smell that was sweat, smoke and gunfire. It’s not how his lover, who took great pride in maintaining his appearance usually smells. It’s wrong. It smelled like death.   
  
Lifting his head, the Galra looked over the man's shoulder and the empty hanger beyond. Several small escape pods were missing, and those that remained had been destroyed. He grabbed the man’s shoulders, pushing him away so he can look into his eyes.   
  
“Why didn’t you go with them?”   
  
The Altean smiled. “Someone had to stay to guard the hanger and make sure no one pursued them.”   
  
“Why you?”   
  
“Why not me?”   
  
The Galra man snarled, biting so hard on his lower lip he drew blood. The Altean, having already accepted his fate, was calm. He lifted a hand and cupped the Galran’s strong, square jaw, slender fingers tracing the familiar line.   
  
“Zarkon will destroy your planet as soon as he confirms the lions aren’t here.”   
  
“I know.” The Altean’s hand reached higher, fingers tracing the long, elegant ears that he'd always found so cute. They are similar to his but with an extra point extending the lower part of the earlobe. His hand keeps moving, curling around the smooth curve of the others man's head, tracing the dark purple markings that meld into lighter purple in the middle of his head.   
  
“The pods?”   
  
“Are going somewhere safe.”   
  
“And the Princess.”   
  
“Is safe.”   
  
“Come with me.” The Galra curled his arms around the other man again, holding him against his broad chest.   
  
The Altean laughed and shook his head. “It won’t work.” He’d already considered every option, every possibility of them running away together. They could follow the refugees to the new planet, but he cannot risk their lives for the sake of his own. He could shapeshift and hide himself amongst the Galra ranks, but it would not be a permanent solution, and his disguise would only last a short while. They would be discovered. They could find their own refuge and hope that they wouldn’t be found, but a Galra deserter would not be forgiven, and their death would be even more cruel.   
  
The Galra knows it too.   
  
Nimble fingers rubbed at the sensitive spot just behind the Galan's ear, the spot the Altean knew would calm the other man.   
  
The Galra lifts his own hand, cupping his beloveds cheek. His skin, dark and smooth, made the deep blue crescent mood markings stand out all the more vividly. He pressed his thumb to one, tracing the delicate shape as he stared into deep blue eyes that danced with the colour of the cosmos.   
  
They were interrupted by radio static. “Commander, are you there?”   
  
His finger moved to the Altean’s lips, pressing lightly over them. He can feel the other man smile, but he keeps quiet.   
  
“Area is secure. Nothing here, move on to the next quadrant.”   
  
“Understood. Do you require backup?”  
  
“Negative. Move on.”   
  
“You must go,” the Altean breathed against his finger, and the Galran’s hand fell away. He leaned forward and caught the man’s lips in a kiss.   
  
“There’s no reason for you to die as well.”   
  
He kissed the other man again. “I will be a dead man without you.”   
  
“Fool.”  
  
“For you, always.”  
  
The kiss suddenly tasted salty, tears sliding down the Altean’s cheek gathered at the corner of his mouth. He threw his arms around the Galran’s neck and pressed close again. He will not let go again.   
  
They kiss desperately, knowing their time is limited. Too soon the radio static burst across the room again giving the order to retreat. Anyone who does not return in time will be destroyed along with the planet.   
  
The Galra threw the radio to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.  
  
They can only embrace now, waiting the inevitable. The Alternate is safely nestled in his arms, his head tucked in the crook of his neck. The Galra wished that his body might enough to shield his love from the blast that was to come, but it won’t be. Nothing can save them. They’ll die together.   
  
“I love you.”  
  
“I love you too, and I will still love you ten-thousand years from now.”   


* * *

  
  
Shiro woke with a start, his heart pounding. The memory lingered for a moment making him see danger in every shadow, but a muffled snort drew his attention to the sleeping, and very much alive, man in his arms, and the pounding of his heart slowed to a steady beat.   
  
It’s a memory of a time long ago, a life that was his and yet not his. It’s bitter-sweet, not exactly a nightmare but his heart ached every time even though he knew what the outcome will be. There was so much love and yearning between the two men that he couldn't help but wish for more for them, that maybe this time the memory will end happily.   
  
Shiro closed his eyes, the weight of the memory still heavy on his chest. Drawing Lance close he rubbed the others back, his hand pressing a little harder than necessary. It’s something he had to do, he had to make sure that Lance was still alive and warm.   
  
He was afraid too, selfishly, afraid that history would one day repeat itself considering they were caught up in the war that ended the lives of the two men who are shadows of their past.   
  
There are plenty of similarities between, physical traits as well as characteristics, at least as far as the limited flashes of memory they’ve seen can tell them, but there are differences too. For one they are both human, although there is a possibility that Lance is descended from those few Altean refugees that his past self managed to protect. There is not a hint of Galra linage in Shiro. And those figures of the past came together during a time of peace and lost their lives to war.   
  
War brought Shiro and Lance together. All Shiro needed to do was protect him through this war, and then they could enjoy the subsequent peace together that they and those two from the past so deserved.   
  
“Mmmm, did you have that dream again?” Lance slurred, breaking Shiro out of his thoughts. He was holding Lance so tight his arm shook.   
  
“Sorry, it’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” He loosened his grip and kissed the top of his lovers head.   
  
“Not nothin’.” Lance lifted himself up and aimed a kiss at Shiro’s lips that hit his nose instead. He didn’t seem to notice though and flopped down next to the other man, his head resting on Shiro’s shoulder.   
  
“Okay?”   
  
“I’m ok,” Shiro assured. It’s enough to mollify Lance.   
  
“”I dreamed about ‘em too. It was a nice one, haven’t seen it before.”   
  
“Oh, what was it about?” Shiro asked, glad that Lance hadn’t dreamed of those final moments as he had.   
  
“Their first time. It was so awkward,” Lance giggled, and Shiro laughed too, reminded of a happier memory. Their own first time together, which had been full of flushed faces and awkward fumbling.   
  
“That does sound good.”   
  
“Mmm, but man, Galra dicks are weird.” Immediately after that revelation, Lance fell asleep.   
  
“What? Lance, you can’t just go back to sleep on me after that. Lance.” Shiro shook his shoulder gently, not really trying to wake him although there was part of him that really wanted to know.   
  
Lance snored and slept on soundly.   
  
“Ass,” Shiro grumbled, placing a gentle kiss on Lance’s cheek.   
  
They may be caught up in the middle of the war, with peace far out of reach, but at least in moments like this, just the two of them curled up together, they could make their own little moment of peace.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone whose read so far <3 let me know what you think and which chapter is your favourite so far.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance needs help with something, and there's only one person he trusts enough to do it, even if he is as nervous as hell about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - trust

“Do you trust me?” Shiro asks, his voice deep and sombre.   
  
“Of course I trust you.” There’s a ‘but’ Lance doesn’t voice, but it’s there in his hesitation and the way he fidgets in the chair.   
  
“It’ll be over before you know it, you just need to relax and sit still.”   
  
“Relax? Shiro, how can I relax? I’m basically putting my life in your hands!” Lance’s voice rises a few octaves, and he fidgets even more his leg bouncing so fast it’s almost a blur. Shiro worries he might fall off the chair. His hand drops onto Lance's knee, squeezing they applying a light pressure to hold him still.   
  
“Babe, it’s just a haircut, and you’re the one that keeps complaining your hair is getting too long.”  
  
“Just a haircut? Just a haircut?!” Lance's voice goes shrill, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times soundlessly before finding his words again. “Shiro, it’s not just a haircut. It's my look, it's a reflection of who I am, it tells people the sort of person I am. It has to be right!”   
  
Shiro chews his lip, biting back a laugh. He doesn't see how a simple haircut can say so much, but Lance is so passionate about it, so he doesn't question it. Shiro cards his fingers through the soft, chocolate brown locks instead, letting the soft strands slip between his fingers. He loves Lance's hair, no matter how it looks, but this is important to Lance.   
  
So he has to give him a little push. “Well if you’re that worried you could always let it grow out,” Shiro muses twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “If you ask me a mullet looks good on one.”   
  
Lance sucks in a horrified gasp, and he grabs Shiro’s wrist, squeezing tight. “If you love me you will cut my hair right now.”   
  
Shiro laughs and kisses the top of Lance’s head. “Anything for you, my love. Now hold still.”   
  
Lance lets out a whine, and he screws his eyes shut, so he doesn't have to look at his reflection in the mirror right in front of him. He lets go of Shiro's wrists and clenches both hands into tight fists, holding them in his lap. His body is tense and rigid, but at least he's not fidgeting anymore.   
  
Really his hair hasn't grown out that much, he just needs to snip off a few inches that threaten to each Lance's shoulders, and he'll have the smart, cropped style that he favours once more, so Shiro picks up the thin silver scissors from the counter and gets to work. He hums softly, the snip of the scissors cutting across the tune with a deliberate precision, each cut small and careful.   
  
It's clear that Shiro is being mindful of what he wants, he's taking his time, snipping away at his hair little by little, but Lance cant help let out another whine, his eyes scrunching up tighter. He can feel tiny strands of hair fall down the back of his neck and land on his shoulders even though he has a towel draped over them. It makes him feel more nervous.   
  
Shiro's fingers slide through his hair slowly, separating it into smaller section before snipping the ends. Snip, snip, snip. He continues humming and continues to run his fingers through Lance's hair as he works, and under his delicate ministrations, the tension slowly unwinds from Lance's body. His eyes remain closed, however.   
  
“Almost done,” Shiro announces after several long, tense moments. The pause between each snip of the scissors has become more intermittent. Shiro hovers at his side, carefully snipping Lance's bangs so they frame his face perfectly before moving to the other side. His humming is more distracted, with the occasional pause as he scrutinises what he's done to make sure it's just right.   
  
“Ok.” Shiro whips the towel off Lance's shoulders, one hand brushing the back of Lance's neck catching any stray strands.   
  
“Done!” It's the cue for Lance to open his eyes, but they remain closed, and instead, he curls forward as if he wants to huddle up in a ball.   
  
“If you ask me it looks great,” Shiro says proudly his fingers dancing along the back of Lance's neck, “especially now that I can see this part of you.” He bends forward, pressing a kiss to the nape of Lance's neck.   
  
“Shiro!” Lance yelps, his eyes snap open, but before he can say anything more he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, and he holds his breath.   
  
“Oh...it actually looks good.”   
  
“What do you mean actually? I'm good at cutting hair! I cut my own hair that time you know.” Shiro squeezes Lance's shoulders and pretends to sound offended, but Lance can see his reflection in the mirror behind him, smiling.   
  
“I would have helped you cut your hair then, you know.” Lance turns to look over his shoulder, soft and serious, his eyes dark.   
  
“I know, but it was something I had to do myself.” Shiro leans forward and kisses him, taking away any feelings of guilt or sorrow Lance might have before they can go any further.   
  
“Now then, you like it? So what does this haircut say about you?”   
  
Lance laughs, tilts his head back and lifts one arm hooking it around Shiro's neck. “It says I have the best boyfriend in the entire universe,” he whispers against Shiro's lips before pulling him for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seven days of fluff week done! I hope you've enjoyed all these stories, I've loved writing them so much. Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> This event had an extra day for a free day, which I'm also going to write for. So tomorrow (hopefully) you can look forward to the epilogue for chapter one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the shared dream, Shiro and Lance talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Free day 
> 
> I wanted to to this extra day so I could write an epilogue to day 1 day 1 because what is fluff week without fluffy closure. I had a lot of fun working on all these fics, and thank you everyone whose read them and stuck with me so far. You guys are amazing.

The fight was over, the battle won. Shiro stood in front of the red lion, his helmet tucked under one arm, the little blue forget me not held in his other hand. The delicate flower survived the battle, safely tucked in the corner of his console.  
  
It was an easy win, they hadn’t even needed to form Voltron, but it was one of the most exhilarating battles he’d fought so far. Everything he’d felt in the dream lingered with him with vivid clarity. He could still feel the ghost of Lance’s lips against his own, warm and soft, making him grin like a fool all through the battle. It gave him a feeling of invincibility, and he charged through the enemies quicker, sharper.  
  
And even without forming Voltron Shiro could feel Lance through their shared mental link, his presence there, mixed along with the others, but standing at the forefront of his mind after that dream. He could feel Lance’s nervousness and his excitement. He felt the rush of Lance’s heart, beating in time to his own, and heard the hitch in the other man’s breath every time he shouted an order.  
  
They were safely back in the castle now, the others sent off with a pat on the shoulder and words of praise, of a job well done. Lance remained in his lion.  
  
Shiro knew Lance wasn’t avoiding him, rather taking a few moments to gather his thoughts, but it had been long enough, and Lance was at risk of getting lost in them if he left him any longer. Shiro slipped his helmet back on and switched on the comms.  
  
“Lance? You going to join us?”  
  
Lance sucked in a breath, startled. Shiro could picture the way he would blink quickly, those pretty blue eyes wide as they darted from side to side before settling. He smiled fondly at the mental image.  
  
“Sorry, Shiro. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Red just needed something.”  
  
Shiro can’t hear the Red lion, not like her pilot can, but he got a sense that Red huffed in indignation at that. “I know, sorry girl just play along. Please,” Lance whispered. Shiro pretended not to hear.  
  
A moment later the Red lion rested her chin on the ground, her jaw opening and Lance stepped out.  
  
“How’s it going, Shiro? Did you need something?” Lance asked with forced cheer and a false swagger to his step as he walked towards Shiro. He lifted his helmet off his head, and his hair stood up at the sides with a hint of static. Lance shook his head, which only made his hair messier.  
  
“I was wondering if we could have that talk now?”  
  
Lance stopped. “Oh. Right, of course. Talk.” He drummed his fingers against his helmet, eyes darting around like a trapped animal before they landed on the flower in Shiro’s hand, and froze.  
  
“You still have that?”  
  
“Yeah. It survived the battle pretty well even though Black got knocked around a bit.” Shiro heard a purr in the back of his mind, his lion proudly admitting she helped protect the flower. Shiro thanked her silently before turning his attention back to Lance.  
  
“I think I should give this back to you though. May I?”  
  
Lance, not understanding what Shiro was really asking, nodded dumbly and slowly lifted his hand to take the flower, but Shiro stepped forward his hand (with the flower) going to Lance's head. He smoothed down the short, flyaway hairs with the tips of his fingers, and then tucked the flower behind his ear again.  
  
“There. It really does look better with you.”  
  
For a moment, Lance forgot to breathe.  
  
“Can we go somewhere now, or would you rather get change first?” Shiro shuffled his feet, his grip on his helmet tightening, suddenly nervous.  
  
“Oh. No, we can go now.” Lance sucked in a breath and nodded his head. The flower bounced up and down over his ear.  
  
“Great, great. Good. Let’s go.” Shiro turned abruptly and marched off, leading the way. Behind him, he heard Lance’s shuffling footsteps follow him.  


* * *

  
  
Shiro lead them to a small side room that few ever visit, so it guaranteed some level of privacy, as long as no one came looking for them.  
  
There was a large window that looked out into space, a plush yet small sofa and nothing much else. It was a room for relaxation. Shiro sat on the far corner of the sofa, and Lance took a seat on the opposite end, putting as much distance between him and Shiro as the small sofa would allow.  
  
Shiro didn’t take any offence to that, in fact, he was glad. If Lance had sat too close, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get the words out. “There’s a field close to my Grandfather’s house that was always covered in blue forget-me-nots. I grew up there, playing in that field. It’s my favourite place on Earth.”  
  
“So that was your…” Lance turned to face him. His eyes seemed darker, deeper in the low light of the room.  
  
“I’ve always wanted to take the person I fell in love with there. It was special to me and seemed like the perfect place for a romantic confession or something. I was starting to think I’d never get the chance to do that.”  
  
Lance’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. It took Shiro a moment to realise he’d pretty much confessed right then. This wasn’t how he ever planned to tell him.  
  
“I like you, a lot,” Shiro added quickly. It was too late now, so he had no choice but to say it, so there was no room for doubt before Lance can misunderstand or question what happened in the dream and what Shiro meant.  
  
“This wasn’t how I planned to tell you. I didn’t think I’d ever tell you. I thought you still like Allura, and I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings.” Shiro bowed his head, looking down at his hands clenched together on his lap. They were shaking.  
  
“Your feelings aren’t a burden.” Lance slid closer, the sofa dipping under his weight.  
  
“And I liked Allura, I still like Allura, but we’re friends. I know she’ll never see me as anything more and I accepted that ages ago.” From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw him lean forward, his hand raised as if about to reach out, but then he thought better of it and pulled back.  
  
“I’ve always admired you, you were my hero, so far out of my league, I never dreamed I’d even be in the same room as you let along fighting alongside you. But I’m just, a spare part, sometimes I think I shouldn’t even be here, I don’t deserve-”  
  
Shiro grabbed Lance’s hand. “Lance, you are so much more than that! If it weren’t for you, the Galra would have followed me to Earth and taken the Blue lion, and this war would be lost. She chose you, out of all of us, and you brought us here in one piece. You pick us up when we're down, you supported Keith when he was struggling to lead, and you’ve been amazing as my right hand. Lance, you are everything.”  
  
The force in Shiro’s words took his breath away, the conviction in them shook him. Shiro smiled and squeezed his hand.  
  
“I don’t expect you to answer now, or ever if you don’t want to. It that kiss was just a whim you went along with because you thought it was a dream I won’t be offended, but I want you to know I meant every moment, and everything I’ve said. I love you.”  
  
“I love you too.” The words were so soft, barely above a whisper that Shiro almost didn’t hear them, even Lance didn't seem to realise he’s spoken at first, but in the silence of the room they carry, loud and clear.  
  
Lance snapped out of his daze with a blink, and he squeezed Shiro’s hand in return. “I love you too!” He repeated, the words spoken with pride and confidence as if it was something he’d only now been able to admit, even to himself.  
  
Shiro laughed, a chuckle of relief that almost broke in a sob.  
  
“Can I kiss you?”  
  
Lance gave an enthusiastic nod in reply, so Shiro cupped his cheek (the flower still sat above his ear), and he pulled Lance in for a kiss that felt both like a dream, and more real than anything in his life up until then.  
  


* * *

  
  
It isn’t until many years later, the war is over, and they’ve returned to Earth, that Shiro feels brave enough to ask Lance to marry him. Lance says yes.  
  
Forget-me-nots are a major theme of their wedding, the little blue flowers woven into every detail, and when they leave the wedding venue together, join by vows to love each other for the rest of their lives, they are showered with a rain of the delicate little blue petals thrown by their family and friends, and they face another beginning together surrounded by the flowers.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so is the end of fluff week. I hope you've enjoyed this little extra, let me know what you think <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you read nothing else in this collection, please read chapter 8 for the epilogue to this fic.


End file.
